Boob deficiency

I'm not the biggest fan of Hoda and Kathie Lee's personalities and irreverent material...but I am a fan of their Wine Wednesdays. Either way, I am already digressing. Stop waving shiny objects in front of my face like wine! So I was watching Hoda and Kathie Lee the other day and they were saying that big boobs were now out, and smaller boobs were in. I felt like the wind was knocked out of me...I felt like a man without a country. My big supple breasts had been part of my identity since I was a sophomore in high school. Without them being of value any more I was left with just a pair of pretty blue eyes. I remember going from a training bra to a full C practically over night...followed by me crying to my mom that I wanted a breast reduction. Thank God she told me to wait until I was at least old enough to get into R rated movies to make that decision. I can't tell you how many VIP tables and glasses of house chardonnay these double dizzles have bought me over the years...and how many times they have prevented me from borrowing money from my mother to pay for VIP tables and glasses of house chardonnay. Well done, Judy!

Growing up Martin

Adopted, Phillipino comic Nick Patrillo was performing his set and talking about how great it was growing up in a white household. It wasn't the gum drop clouds and unicorns giving you a ride to elementary school that he described, but it was pretty awesome. Granted you may not grow up with some of the amenities of other families, like hugs and acknowledgments of good grades and other positive behaviors. But you did have the autonomy to run around the neighborhood until the street lights came on, you got an allowance for doing mundane things like making your own bed, and you were encouraged to do girly things like get your nails, hair, and Glamour Shots done. Growing up Martin was, in a way, growing up with two parents who suffered from Aspberger's Disease, yet shelled out money with random aplomb as long as I left them alone. If that's all you know, then that becomes your norm. Even today I would gladly trade in a half-hearted I love you for a Barbie Dream House.

Anchor minimums

I was at the Gaslamp in Long Beach for Tuesday comedy nights, and my friend Darlene and I noticed that there was a 2 drink minimum to sit at the table. I know that most comedy places require this, but we were at the Gaslamp of all places. Formerly known as Live Bait in my college days, complete with fake buoys, fishing nets, and plastic crabs aligning the walls while we made out with emo looking boys and puked up White Russians in the bathroom. But as a seasoned alcoholic, I realized that this was smart of many comedy clubs. One drink was not enough to do the trick, but much like an anchor baby from Mexico, two drinks was enough to wet your pallet and make you want six more.